


Growth

by PrehistoricMuffin



Series: Runaways [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: A whole lot of shenanigans, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, The Infection, author losing the battle against including memes, children doing things children Should Not be doing, super far in the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29152023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrehistoricMuffin/pseuds/PrehistoricMuffin
Summary: The survivors of the Abyss learn about Hallownest. Meanwhile, the Infection spreads.
Series: Runaways [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049921
Comments: 42
Kudos: 63





	1. °Pale Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring an unofficial take your child to work day(read: Herrah likes to make PK's life harder), Infection discussion, some dehumanization of PV, PK getting insulted but not to his face, and an overtired and sassy Watcher

The Infection was spreading. The Mushroom Tribe had reported several cases in the northern Fungal Wastes, near the Crossroads.

It worried Hornet, because Father would probably try to speed up the vessel plan. And the Pure Vessel, standing quietly next to him, had suffered enough.

Hornet had always known this was her sibling. Now the proof was secreted away in a glen of the Green Caverns. She wondered what was in this one’s mind, what nonsense they’d absorbed from Father. 

The Pale King himself glowered over the map Watcher Lurien had prepared. It showed all of Hallownest, with areas where the Infection had spread outlined in orange. The King’s Path, the southern Crossroads, the Crystal Mines, and now the Fungal Wastes.

The King looked up, and frowned. “Herrah, Hornet does not need to be a part of these discussions.”

“She’ll lose me to this plan. She should know exactly what’s going on,” Herrah said without hesitation.

The King glanced at Lurien with a distinct air of ‘please assist me.’

The Watcher didn’t look up from his sheaf of paperwork. “Truly, my King, I see no reason why the Princess should not be a part of these meetings, especially given what we’ve discussed.”

The King gaped at his advisor.

“I’ll go if the Pure Vessel comes with me,” Hornet suggested, which would make neither of her parents happy. True to form, they stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

“I don’t see why not,” said the Watcher, still not looking away from his papers. “The Pure Vessel doesn’t need to be here either.”

“…Very well,” the King nearly growled.

“Are you sure, dear?” Herrah asked.

Hornet glanced at the vessel. A slight sway towards her; they wanted to go. “Yes.”

The Pale King was a fool. If he paid any attention at all, he’d notice the Pure Vessel’s subtle twitches and shifts. Movements that Hornet could recognize, because they were aborted vessel gestures.

The King sighed. “Pure Vessel, please go with Princess Hornet.”

Another reason her father was an entire imbecile–how would the vessel understand such an order without a mind? 

The Pure Vessel left his side to walk, elegantly, mechanically, to Hornet’s.

“Come on,” she said, heading to the door. 

“You are not helping,” the King hissed at Lurien.

“If you wanted me to be helpful, you shouldn’t have called me here three days before a deadline.”

The door shut, and Hornet and the Pure Vessel were alone in the hall.

She cleared her throat. “Shall we go to the White Lady’s rooms?”

Her sibling stared blankly at her.

She sighed. “Let’s go to the White Lady’s rooms.”

They began to walk again, still that unnatural steady stride. 

The White Lady seemed to be visiting her gardens; not one retainer was in her rooms. Hornet sat down in an oversized armchair. “This will do,” she said. Her sibling stopped where they stood, and just stayed there. She regarded them with concern. “Come over here, please.”

From what she’d learned about vessels, from the fifteen who weren’t being conditioned into unthinking containers for plague, they were animated, affectionate, and tactile. In lieu of facial expression, they gestured vehemently. They cuddled constantly, slept in piles, bonked masks together. The smallest of them insisted on being held whenever possible. Their favorite games were tag and wrestling.

No one touched the Pure Vessel other than the Pale King and the Knights, and even then it was only for monitoring and sparring. The King had successfully dissauded the White Lady from her sentimental attentions.

Cautiously, Hornet reached out, and ran a delicate hand over the curve of their mask, between their horns. She felt a slight jolt from them, so subtle as to be invisible. “I know what you hide. Your secret is safe with me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.”

A pause, then a tiny shift–they leaned into her hand.

“Do you want to sit up here with me? There’s enough space.”

They didn’t move for a moment, then gracelessly scrambled up, as if to outrace her changing her mind. Once up, they rubbed their mitten hands against the fabric.

“Soft,” she said quietly, her thoughts immediately pulled to her sibling of the same byname. She began to practice her snails’ sign, mumbling the phrases under her breath. Pure watched with clear interest, and gradually crept closer, until they pressed into her side.

“Hornet!”

She lifted her head sharply. The vessel beside her froze.

The Pale King and Herrah stood at the door. “What are you doing with the Pure Vessel?” The King continued suspiciously. 

“I ordered them up here,” said Hornet. “They’re fine.” She gave him the same dubious look that she always did when he insisted on ‘Pure Vessel’ nonsense.

“We’re finished here,” Herrah said, drawing her gaze.

And this wasn’t a week when Hornet was staying at the Palace. She repressed a sigh and slipped off the armchair.

“Come, Pure Vessel,” the Pale King ordered. They too dropped off and trotted to the King’s side, emotionless once more. Maybe she’d only made it worse, now that they knew someone out there knew, and couldn’t help. At least the others were free.

Hornet bowed her head briefly. “Good-bye, Father.”

“Farewell, Hornet.” His eyes were already on the vessel, silently fussing, scanning for any possible imperfection.

Before she followed Herrah away, Hornet signed three words toward her sibling. “See you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call out for this chapter taking longer to write than chapter 2, smh. That'll be up as soon as I finish the formatting  
> Also good news–I've finished the full outline for this series, which should streamline the process significantly. This'll mostly be episodic character development and shenanigans for about *checks notes* fifteen chapters


	2. °Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vessels at the Lake of Unn, featuring cuddles, vessel naming conventions, acid injuries, discussion of certain useful but spooky in-game mechanics, gardening, and weaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that italicized underlined font is Voidspeak!

Strand woke up beneath a heap of siblings, the pressure steady and comforting and threatening to lull them back to sleep. But there was a soft prickling against their back; Six, huddled on top of them, was kneading them again. Strand loved Six, but kneading was too much when they’d just woken up. They huffed, and gave their sibling a slight shove. Six tumbled over themself and off the heap, raising their head to stare with disbelieving betrayal. Tall, to Strand’s right, lifted their own head briefly before curling up again.

Six bapped Strand on the forehead before they could fall back to sleep. _What was that for?_

Strand shrugged, snuggling deeper in the pile. _Kneading_ , they complained.

Six harrumphed, the sigh bouncing their head, then marched indignantly outside.

…Now Strand felt guilty, as cozy as they were in the pile. Reluctantly, they heaved themself off the pile, prompting a shift of protest from Tall before they tucked themself closer to the rest of the pile. Strand stepped outside, just in time to see Zin take a running leap off the end of the dock.

They stared for a second, as Zoom stopped their pursuit dead at the end of the dock and Six sprinted to catch up. Previous issue entirely forgotten, Strand grabbed the nearest long stick and raced to the end of the dock. They reached out with the stick. Six and Zoom quickly caught on and gripped it tight. Zin grabbed the other end, and the vessels heaved them out of the acid. They scrambled back onto the dock, shivering uncontrollably. They wrapped their arms around themself, then tore their hands away from the raw skin.

 _Zin! Why did you do that?_ Six demanded.

_Fizzy! Looked like fun!_

_Sister said to avoid the acid!_ Zoom fussed. They focused Soul into their sibling, healing the wounds. _  
_

_Wanted to know for sure._

Zoom held their face between their paws. _You. Could. Have. Died._

Zin kicked their feet, pointed at the temple in clear denial. _Bench._

Six and Strand exchanged a look. _Reforming will not solve your problems,_ Six said.

 _Would solve this one,_ Zin groused. They shook themself of the prickling that came with quickly repaired skin.

Zoom placed their hands on Zin’s shoulders, shook them, then stood and dragged them away from the acid.

Well. Strand was definitely not going to fall back to sleep now. 

_That’s one way to wake up,_ Six muttered. 

Strand watched Zoom pull Zin into the building, and sighed. 

So many of their siblings had found names, but Strand didn’t have one yet. They would answer to Strand until they found the right one, or decided Strand suited them enough. Soft, Six, Branch, Shell, Three, and Tall were like that, too. 

They wanted to wait. Strand wasn’t it, they were sure of it.

_Sibling?_

Six’s murmur startled them out of their thoughts. Right. They were still standing in the middle of the dock.

Their sibling held a bundle of long grass in their hands. _If we’re awake, we might as well weave_. They stuck the grass into their body for ease of travel.

Something rhythmic and steady to occupy their twitchy hands after all the excitement. _Sounds good._

Tiny legs made for a long trip back toward the lamp post. They passed Min, Miri, and Moe along the way; the three had taken to tending the local plants. Min had a knack for helping plants grow, some sixth sense that let them know what a struggling plant needed and the warning signs of mold and disease.

A large pool of acid halted the pair’s progress. Fortunately, the vessels had found a way across.

Six gripped Strand’s hands firmly, then chucked them across the gap. They landed a little hard, but no worse for wear. They quickly scuttled out of the way, and Six backed up, took a running leap, snatched one of the vines, and swung across. From there, they just climbed up more vines into the hidden passage.

Not even Hornet knew about this passage. The plan was to cover up the entrance with a sturdy basket weave mesh that could be removed and replaced quickly. This place was safe, but there was no guarantee it would stay that way. First, though, Strand and Six had to figure out how weaving worked, beyond what the three weavers had told Zin and Zoom.

Strand sat down against a conveniently situated rock. Six pulled their supplies out–the grass, and their previous attempts–then plopped down beside Strand, and began to weave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muffin stop fussing over word count challenge  
> Also I have only second hand experience with siblings, if anyone has suggestions I'd love to hear them


	3. °Claws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite vessel goes exploring, featuring bubbles and mushrooms

Ghost had gone exploring.

They had a whole new land to see! The littlest siblings were busy seeing everything they could in their new home, and Shard and Brook were watching them, so Ghost didn’t have to worry about anything going wrong. There was always a little worry; such was the lot of those hiding from the King, but the vessels were as safe as they could possibly be.

The caverns were so green and pretty and peaceful. The Mosskin barely paid Ghost any heed as they padded along platforms and leaves. Look at these swirly rocks, and those thorns! Look at those big buildings over there!

Ooo! Bubbles!

The air grew thick and heavy. Through their awe, Ghost thought they weren’t in the Green Caverns any more.

The bubble shaped beings of the canyon nearly blended with its mist. Ghost silently mused over how fun it would be to pop them. The creatures didn’t seem to notice them, though, so Ghost decided against it.

The fog eventually gave way to a pair of familiar fancy doors, which lead into–

A Stag Station! The biggest Ghost had ever seen. Dozens of bugs scuttled past each moment, carrying tools and bags. A few bugs gave them curious looks, but they all kept walking. Ghost headed straight across, to where more light shone in.

Greenery gave way to mushrooms. There were fewer bugs along this path than in the station, and most of them seemed to have a lighter load.

_The Queen’s Greenhouse. Built with reverence to the White Lady._

The White Lady. Hadn’t Hornet mentioned her? Ghost searched their mind, but couldn’t recall the context. Oh well.

They went on, and the paved road gave way to packed fungal track for a while. It picked back up in front of a huge door right in Ghost’s path. Most of the other bugs were going there, so Ghost would not.

The next items of interest were the purple mushrooms, perfectly sized for a vessel to sit on.

Revised statement: they couldn’t sit, but they could _bounce_. An idea struck them, and they thwacked the cap with their nail.

They flew high in the air.

Oh yeah.

Bounce, bounce, bounce! Across a depression in the ground, over some more mushrooms, over a pool of acid. Purple spores trailed behind them.

There was a tunnel held up by pillars over there, marked by a sign.

That way looked _boring_.

Ghost went the way with more mushrooms.

Bounce, bounce, bounce–!

Ghost froze when they came face to face with a pair of tall bugs with sharply clawed arms.

The tall bugs didn’t seem to know what to do with Ghost, either. They looked at each other, back at Ghost, at each other again.

Ghost spotted another purple mushroom past them. Sprinted for it.

“Halt!” one of the tall bugs called, but Ghost didn’t stop. Bounce!

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. There were so many of the tall bugs. Some of the tall bugs could _fly_ , that was scary.

Ghost ducked beneath a ledge.

This looked a little like the ruined neighborhood that Ghost and their siblings lived near, but…not ruined. The buildings were well kept, the packed path clear of debris, and there were more tall bugs.

Ghost scrambled up on a ledge and jumped away, past more flying bugs, ducked into a large room.

It was full of shelves, brimming with claw-like tools. Those could be useful. Ghost shoved as many as they could from the bottom shelf into their body, then held onto one. What did it do?

A loud buzz filled the hallway. A question for another time, Ghost supposed. They darted out beneath their pursuers’ claws.

One slashed at them.

Ghost dodged, hit the wall–and clung.

They could _climb_.

They leapt and vaulted around the tall bugs back the way they came, until yellow spores filled the air. There were more of them out in the Wastes than in the buildings–a tunnel out!

More bouncy mushrooms!

They bounced all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vessels with Mantis Claws, what crimes will they commit  
> There are many things I am willing to overlook for narrative. Mantis claw is not one of them.


	4. °Catch Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hornet visits, featuring childhood excitement, and Hornet's constant worry

“Greetings, princess!” said the stag. They looked around the Distant Village Stag for a moment, apparently unsettled by the familiar clicking and chirps of Deepnest. “Where do you wish to go?”

“Greenpath, please,” she said, climbing aboard.

“Right away.” The stag galloped down the tunnel. “How are your siblings?” They called, nearly drowned out by the thundering of their feet.

“The Stags’ gossip moves fast,” Hornet noted. “The children were well the last time I saw them. I’d think you’d know better than me.”

“Unfortunately there is little to do between passengers but gossip,” said the stag, entirely unapologetic. “The children are avid travelers, Shard especially.”

“Where have they been going?” Hornet asked, suddenly concerned. _More importantly, who had seen them?_

“Shard has been traveling to the Crossroads every few days. I believe that–who’s the one with three horns?”

“Brook.”

“They’ve been going to King’s Station and always come back covered in ash.”

Crossroads and Kingdom’s Edge. Too populated to be of note and too empty for anyone to see, respectively. Hornet relaxed, and answered some more idle questions as the stag galloped along–her studies, the state of politics, the upcoming–exciting–Hive training that would take up even more of her precious spare time. Time she could be spending with her siblings, who really deserved to be cared for instead of carving out their own place in the Green Caverns.

“Here we are,” said the stag. Hornet wasn’t sure when the conversation had become a monologue on the surprisingly complicated journey of the average stagway-delivered package. She disembarked, waved to the stag, traveled into the quarantine area, looked both ways, then ducked into the hidden tunnel.

Stepping into the brighter area felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders.

The vessels lit up as she dropped into the main cavern, and instantly closed in.

“Siblings, siblings–gah!” A small mob of vessels tackled her to the floor, hugging and nuzzling. “I missed you too, but please, let me up!”

Three vessels held back from the hug heap, watching with amusement. It seemed Deepnest had left more of a mark on these siblings–Ghost, Shard, and Brook. They were more cautious, less touchy, constantly on alert.

Min, Miri, and Moe dug her out of the pile and bodily dragged her down over to a patch of plants. One of the sprouts displayed red buds, almost the exact shade of Hornet’s cloak.

“It’s called a–” _Tulip!_ The cooperative sentence was signed by Miri while Moe wrote the name. “Looks like sister!”

“It was sick,” Min said, “but better now! See!”

“I’m glad,” Hornet replied, the trio's glee entirely infectious. “May I touch it?”

Min deliberated then nodded. “Only touch.”

The petals felt steeped in Soul, and much less frail for it. It wasn’t particularly strange, given the bush’s caretakers, but the vessels _were_ the White Lady’s children. Maybe…

Min tilted their head, and Hornet realized she was staring. She turned it into a quick head count–twelve. “Where are Soft, Three, and Branch?”

“By the,” Zin used a sign she didn’t recognize.

“What was that last word?”

“Big water,” they tried, then repeated the new one.

“The lake?” she hazarded, and they nodded. She was starting to fall behind on sign–maybe the Archive would have a text or two she could use while she was away. “Let’s go, then.”

Hornet ended up next to Brook while her crowd of siblings traveled to the lake. They were definitely taller than last time, even with their improved posture confusing the subject. “I heard you’ve been going to Kingdom’s Edge,” Hornet said.

“Teacher,” they said, and patted their nail.

“We’ll have to have a spar when I have more time."

Brook got a distinct bounce in their step at that. “I would like that.”

Soft, Three, and Branch were similarly excited to see her, and pulled her to the local bench. Soft and Three immediately climbed on with her, Soft curling up in a tight ball in her lap and Three leaning their head against their sibling, arms flopping over her legs. The two settled in quickly, squeezing her legs gently with their small hands. It seemed she’d be here for a while.

Shard slid up in front of her. More crystals dangled from their horns, these ones pink like those in the mines east of the Crossroads.

“Where did you get those?” Hornet asked.

“New shaman! Learned from first teacher. She uses crystals for focus.”

“Ah, the shaman from Deepnest recommended someone,” Hornet put together, and watched for Shard’s following nod of confirmation. “Are you learning anything new?”

Shard nodded. “Strong spells!” They took a few steps back, waved their hands for room. The crystals glowed with Soul as Shard focused, then burst outward in a ring. Glowing white Soul, all the more striking for their dark body.

It looked…like Father’s magic. Less intense, less concentrated, liquid rather than shaped, but still.

Shard relaxed, raised their hands, drew the Soul back into their body, then stared at her expectantly.

Hornet mentally shook herself. “Impressive,” she said, floundering for anything else, but Shard was satisfied, giving a proud bow.

Ghost scuttled over to Shard, carrying a hooked device. Shard shook their head, produced a small bubble of Soul in response.

“What’s that?” Hornet asked.

Ghost held it up for her perusal.

“A Mantis claw,” Hornet breathed. “You went to Mantis Village?”

Ghost nodded. “Scary bugs,” they added. “Chase.”

“You were seen?!” Ghost was very lucky Hornet was held down by Soft and Three right now.

They cocked their head. “Bad?”

“Yes, bad!” Hornet took a deep breath, managing to calm herself down before she woke up the little vessels. “The Mantises won’t report you to the King, but you need to be careful. And…please, if you listen to anything I say, let it be this. I can’t stop you from leaving the Green Caverns, but there is one place you shouldn’t ever go. The Hallowed City, Hallownest’s heart.” Her hands clenched at the thought. “Most bugs won’t know what you are, and will think nothing of it. The Watcher of the City would, and he’d…he’d tell Father. You wouldn’t be safe anymore.”

Shard shuddered at the thought. “Thank you for telling.”

“Of course. Now, could you teach me more sign?”

Shard nodded eagerly, and joined her on the bench. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cannot imagine the joy I felt when I realized I wouldn't have to format Voidspeak for this chapter, oh my golly  
> Just a heads up, my other WIP is catching my interest in a big way right now, so I might slow down a bit


	5. °To Wield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six is looking for something, and chases it all the way across the kingdom. Featuring some scruffing, suspicion, and fractured memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello the writer's block has released me and I'm here to make it everyone's problem

Six needed to go somewhere. Trouble was, they didn’t know where.

The need to go somewhere, to go far, far east, had nagged at them since they’d arrived in the Green Caverns. They’d successfully avoided it with the weaving project, but now that it was done, the secret tunnel hidden away, they couldn’t suppress it any longer. So here they were, ringing the bell in the Stag Station.

A stag galloped in. “Greetings! Where are you headed?”

Six pointed to the Resting Grounds, the station furthest east.

“That would be the cemetery,” the Stag said. “You wish to go there?”

They nodded. It sounded right, though they couldn’t be sure.

“Dreary place, but if that’s what you wish, all aboard.”

Six climbed into the saddle without too much trouble. “I have a question for you. Would you prefer silence or talk on the trip?”

Six tilted their head in puzzlement.

The Stag had to crane their head to see them. “I know your sibling Shard prefers to have their Stag talk, but Brook would rather travel in quiet. How about, tap my shell once for talk, twice for silence.”

Six considered, then tapped twice.

“Enjoy the ride, then.”

The tunnels whipped past so quickly, and yet the trip was so long. But in the end, it was worth it. The sense had shifted to the west, and it felt closer. Much closer. Six’s hands twitched. They slid off the Stag’s back. “Thank you.”

“Glad to be of service,” said the stag, and then a ringing down the way set them running again.

The stag station here was pleasantly decorated with small dangling flower-shaped beads and circular woven designs. The air was still and quiet.

Outside, it was just as bug–less. Parts of the floor and even the walls were made of masks. They could see what the stag had meant, yet…they liked it. It was peaceful. They jumped up to a decorated ledge. The fence evoked an image of some shining figure. Light maybe.

_–Darkness, a glow at the top of the tunnel, bodies falling everywhere–_

Something scooped them off the ground and back to reality. They squirmed in surprise, then looked up into the eyes of a tall red bug, a heavy red cloak swaying around them and several nails on their back.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the bug said sternly. "Hallownest bugs are not permitted in the Moth village.”

Six struggled to process, thoughts still gooey. Fragmented memories again. Yikes. At least they hadn’t fallen too deep into it this time. Strange bug. He held them by the back of the cloak. It tugged unpleasantly. Hallownest bugs not permitted in…what village? This was a cemetery. Wait, did they even qualify as a Hallownest bug, since the Pale King would probably toss them back into their birthplace given half the chance? Six gave a full-armed shrug to convey that they had no idea what he was talking about.

“What are you doing here then?”

They would also like to know that. Another shrug.

“Can’t you talk?” the bug grumbled.

Six wouldn’t have graced that with any sort of response, except all it required was a very grave shake of the head.

“Truly?” the warrior said, slightly surprised.

Nod. “Can sign.”

The bug regarded their hands with puzzlement.

Six sighed and mimed writing, then wriggled and pointed hopefully at the ground.

The bug huffed and put them down. “Follow me.”

A few platforms up was a smaller stranger with a fluffy cloak, in a soothing shade of brown.

“Markoth! What brings you here today–?” The brown bug froze at the sight of Six.

“Greetings, Seer. I was hoping to borrow some charcoal and paper.” His voice was much gentler now.

“Certainly. Why don’t you both come inside?” Her gaze lingered on Six, but they didn’t dwell on it. They could feel that the thing they wanted was here, right here, so very very close. It was a very cozy cave, with a pile of pillows in a corner and shelves in a few other places, and more of those beads and woven circles hanging from the ceiling.

Seer rummaged around the shelves, and returned a moment later with paper and charcoal. “Now, tell me how you encountered Markoth, little one.”

“That really is not the most pertinent–”

Seer hushed him as Six wrote. _I was looking around by the Stag Station._ _I couldn’t hear him, and he picked me up by the cloak._ They reached up and rubbed the sore attachment.

“That’s our Markoth,” said Seer, fond and exasperated. “We’re a bit wary of outsiders here.”

Six could understand that, though they couldn’t imagine why the moths would have cause to, and asked as much.

She gave a slightly strained smile. “Never mind that. What about you, little one? What brings you to the Resting Grounds?” Her eyes softened. “Have you come to pay respects to family?”

They shook their head. They tapped their fingers against the ground. It was here, they just knew it, but where? “Something called,” they signed, to be met with confusion, sighed, and wrote it down.

“Something called you?” the Seer echoed. “What?”

They shrugged vehemently. They didn’t know, that was the problem!

“Hmm. Perhaps I could help you find out what it is. What does it feel like?”

Six puzzled over it. _Feels dusty. Warm, but not hot._ That part was important. Infection was hot, not warm.

“Dusty,” murmured the Seer. “What shall we call you, little one?” She asked suddenly.

_Call me Six._

“That’s a very apt name.”

They shook their head. _Not name. Not yet. But called Six._

“…I see.” She watched them quietly, long enough for Markoth to give her a concerned glance. Then braced herself, and answered an older question. “Lately visitors have been less than kind to us. They think the moths are connected to the Infection.”

“Seer! They barely know us!”

Six absorbed that. Grabbed the paper, wrote out two glyphs as largely as they could with their small hands, and held it up. _THAT’S STUPID._

Seer let out a startled chuckle, and Markoth’s stance relaxed slightly.

They wrote a few more lines, more articulated. _I know about the Infection. I live–_ they hesitated. Just because the Moths didn’t worship the King didn’t mean they wouldn’t report them. _–where a lot of Infected bugs are. You don’t have anything to do with it_.

Seer nodded to herself, then suddenly stood and took a box from the shelves.

“Seer! Have you gone mad!” Markoth hissed.

“A being of darkness and opposed light, when the old one threatens to consume us,” she whispered back. “Who else could it possibly be?”

Six had no idea what they were talking about. They were getting annoyed at being left out of the loop, so instead of paying attention while the two moths argued, they made use of the charcoal instead.

Eventually, the bugs argued themselves out. Markoth and Seer turned to see Six drawing on their face. They’d tried to draw the little flower beads, but they weren’t the best artist to begin with, and there wasn’t a reflective surface in here.

Seer grinned. “That’s lovely, little one. Would you come here? I want to to show you something.”

They put the charcoal down with the utmost respect and scurried over.

Seer opened the box, and drew out a carefully wrapped object.

Six went still. The thing they were searching for, that was it, they could feel it in their shell. They wanted it, but their wants rarely factored into anything. If they got what they wanted, the other siblings would still be alive.

Seer unwrapped it, revealing a handheld amulet decorated with an essence design. “This is the Dream Nail, a prized talisman of my tribe. Is this what you were looking for?”

They nodded before they could stop themself. 

She handed it over so easily. A prized talisman of her tribe, and she was letting them hold it. It was warm and smooth to the touch. Everything inside them settled for a precious moment.

“How does it feel?”

They signed half of “Good,” scoffed at their own silliness, and wrote one-handedly, _Nice and dusty._

“Good. Now, I want you to focus on the Dream Nail.”

Focus! They knew how to do that! They concentrated their energy on the amulet, and it flared with pink light.

“Oh my!” the Seer breathed. Markoth gasped quietly in the background.

Six were mesmerized. They had never felt at peace with such a powerful source of light before. 

“The Dream Nail can cut through the veil that separates the waking world from dreams,” Seer explained. “You must attune to it to unlock its full potential.”

Six had many questions, but settled on a single one. _How?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not shown onscreen: everyone at the Lake of Unn collectively losing their minds because Six forgot to tell any of them they were going somewhere  
> Six is fun to write because they're a) attentive, b) introspective, and c) very rightfully upset about their circumstances.  
> Some quick world-building notes: in this universe, a lot of moths integrated into Hallownest pretty smoothly, but several stayed around the Resting Grounds and continued doing dream stuff. That's the bare minimum because it's not going to be brought up much in-story, but if you're curious I'd be happy to elaborate in the comments. There will be minimum sadness in this series because I already have to deal with a whole heap of sad in Ghosts.  
> Thank you to everyone who has left comments or kudos! I don't always have the energy to reply but every one means the world to me

**Author's Note:**

> I can also be found on [tumblr](https://talesfromthephanerozoic.tumblr.com/)!  
> [The small vessels](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1YXBNavmUSO4c3oXaSrHlemPvZTBq3JZM?usp=sharing)


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